Insert Working title here
by apathyburger
Summary: This is extremely rough- as in barely edited (see title). But to appease friends, I posted. draconeville (editing will come soon)


"Sniveling again Longbottom?"  
  
"Fuck off Malfoy."  
  
"Aw is little ickle Nevillkins angwy dat someone saw him crying like a wittle girl?"  
  
"What do you care?" cried out Neville, turning around so he was no longer staring transfixed out the grimy window that let in light only where Neville's hand had rubbed a porthole, but instead glaring at Draco. His eyes were red and cheeks damp but his voice didn't quiver and his jaw was set.  
  
Neville's face had slimmed out over the years, cheekbones showing, over the years he'd been at Hogwarts though it still had a round shape. Years of running up and down stairs to class had toned his body thought not to any great extent. That coupled with a growth spurt meant that Neville, while not quite muscular or thin, was no longer short and round.  
  
Draco, Draco on the other hand had always been slim. Quidditch had added enough muscle on his frame that he looked as if he could win a fistfight, not that he'd ever fight fair. His hair was still peroxide blond though now and then he spiked it and dyed the tips green, emerald green, if only because it upset the professors to see such a gross misuse of spells and ability.  
  
"Oh come off it Longbottom," drawled Draco, leaning against the tower wall after first checking that nothing unsavory was growing or living there. It was a small room, once had been a classroom, evidenced by the bits of browned parchment on the floor and the dry smell of books and sweat still permeating the air years after the room had been abandoned in favor of larger classrooms big enough for real explosions. Neville sat on an old desk he must have dragged over, as Draco could plainly see the trails in the dust. Still not thinking with his wand, thought Draco. Probably in more ways than one.  
  
"Why can't you go away and burn down a village or something?"  
  
"Oh but the witty conversation has me transfixed," said Draco slowly, feeling each word slip of his tongue. He always had a gift for banter. Sadly Crabbe and Goyle seemed unable to understand the finer points of sarcasm.  
  
"Piss off."  
  
"And leave you? There are so many insults waiting to be said though."  
  
"I just want to be alone, alright Draco?" Draco bit down on his tongue. No one called him Draco- it was Malfoy or Son or Darling or Draco the Little Dragon (but that was only his mother). Even conquests... They didn't dare or bother. Malfoy. That's who he was- always. A surname and a family image.  
  
"What did you say?"  
  
"I said, 'I want to be left alone.'"  
  
"No! What did you call me?"  
  
"Draco."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because that's your name, mainly, yes?"  
  
"No one calls me Draco!"  
  
"Whoops," said Neville. He didn't sound apologetic. "Draco. Draco. Draco." My God is Longbottom, mocking me?  
  
"Fuck off Neville!"  
  
"Draco, Draco, Draco!"  
  
"Dún do bhéal!" Draco tackled Neville, wand forgotten. For a moment he had Neville straddled, his hands pushing Neville's shoulders into the desk, Neville's hands pushing against his chest. Neville continued to remain relaxed, only his arms tensed- fighting position, realized Draco. He stared for a moment into Neville's eyes and saw his reflection- out of proportion, the shadowing and foreground all wrong. It would make for a miserable picture. Sighing he rolled off, sitting on the edge of the desk, staring at the wall, leaning back on his hands and reclaiming his nonchalance. "You're not worth it."  
  
"Dún do bhéal? That's Irish!"  
  
"Drop it Longbottom." Draco realized he sounded tired but couldn't place why. It was a weekend and there had been no Quidditch the night before.  
  
"You're Irish? For heaven's... what would Blaise say? That is if you're still screwing her in the Potions room."  
  
Draco's mouth dropped open. "how-"  
  
"Heard the Bloody Baron telling a portrait. He sounded quite proud of you. Now isn't she dating Higgs? Malfoy... don't your fathers do business together? Hate to let Terrence hear about this- could ruin some business deals, hmm?"  
  
"Are you blackmailing me Longbottom?" Draco attempted to sound suave but his voice cracked in the middle of Longbottom, ruining that image. Higgs had a way with the Alaphadra Curse. Tempting as it was to wake up covered in boils and the finer points of Leprosy, Draco had a feeling he'd rather suffer through that experience through another.  
  
Neville hiccupped, sounding like a laugh. "You're not worth it. Go. Away. Now." He dragged in a shaky breath.  
  
"For God's sake what is wrong with you?"  
  
"Nothing Malfoy!"  
  
"Come one Neville." He had remained lying down after Draco tackled him, his legs hanging off the edge of the desk, near Draco's hand in an almost friendly manner. Now he drew himself in and sat up.  
  
"You want to know so bad? It's just nothing is ever, ever good enough for my Gram! Not my marks, not me! I have to live up to two bloody craz...." Neville stopped, sounding slightly hysterical. Draco decided to try calming him down.  
  
"I rarely please my parents either but who cares? I'm sexy."  
  
Neville barked out a laugh. "You, Draco, are an idiot." Draco took a moment to think about his last statement and realized it did make him sound a bit like an idiot. Now wait, what did he care? It was Neville for god's sake. And he was sexy. "Do you honestly think your sex appeal will make me feel any better? Or that you've shagged 50% of the school's female population will help? You daft fuck."  
  
"I was only remarking it made me feel better- not everything has to be all about you. And what's this about 50%? You're leading yourself on- try 75."  
  
"See previous comment on you being a daft fuck."  
  
Fuck it, thought Draco. There's no reasoning with him. But to leave would only make Neville happy and lord knows we can't have that. Especially when he's emotionally unstable. "You said I had sex appeal."  
  
"What? You are beyond off your head. Seriously-"  
  
"You said 'like your sex appeal will make me feel better'."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Come now, you're only mortal. Not a surprise you couldn't resist my charms."  
  
"Come off it Malfoy."  
  
"You're not answering!" Draco sing-songed the last bit and inwardly groaned. His voice hadn't hit those notes since he left puberty. Oh well- it was worth it if it made Longbottom sweat.  
  
"Fine Malfoy, you have sex appeal. Now will you cop on?" Wait, Longbottom seems nonchalant, thought Draco, sure that somehow the game was turning against him but not sure how.  
  
"What?"  
  
"You have sex appeal. Isn't that what you wanted to hear?"  
  
"I, er...er...! Are you camp Longbottom?!" And I've been sitting with him! He's probably been sizing me up! Draco sprung up and stared at Neville who remained staring determinedly out the window, convinced that if he looked long enough, there would be something beyond raindrops to look upon.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"WHAT?"  
  
"I'm gay. Queer. Homosexual. I'd go into other languages but I don't know any. I fancy other lads, basically." Draco made a shocked sound, a bubble that popped in his throat. "Oh and Draco, all those I care about, already know. So don't bother blackmail." Draco made the shocked gargle again. This was unexpected. Maybe he should flee. But that would mean Crabbe and Goyle and in suffering idiocy that followed them; fleeing would mean the cold common room that smelled like mildew when it rained and developed moss when it poured. Besides, Malfoy's didn't flee. They sauntered, leaving bodies slinking in the dirt, preferably crying for mothers, mercy; Malfoy's waltzed, leaving conquests sleeping in the bed and no 'how do you do' the next morning. And Neville hadn't acted like he wanted to rape him and surely he knew more curses than Longbottom. Indeed Longbottom had merely admitted he had sex appeal- that wasn't attraction- that was the truth. Yes, maybe he should stay. Something to tell around the fire, especially as supper was approaching thought Draco.  
  
"I...er... Oh," Neville didn't make a sound, "Well that's... er..." Draco babbled.  
  
"That's pretty much what Seamus said."  
  
"You fancied Finnigan?!"  
  
"Did but... Not like rejection is anything you can hold your end of a conversation on."  
  
"Do you doubt my ability to speak or mental prowess?"  
  
"Neither- I doubt your ability to relate."  
  
"Well then..." Draco's unspoken threat died out as he tried to decide whether he was being insulted or not. "So..." Draco perched on the edge of the desk. Why should he continue to stand if Longbottom sat? he reasoned. "Seamus wasn't willing to explore the closet with you?" Neville turned (sliding off the desk) and punched Draco, completely calm but with angry eyes and set jaw. Shocked, Draco realized he was bleeding.  
  
"Ever insult my friends again...."  
  
"Aw fuck Longbottom!" But Draco realized as he reached for his wand that he didn't want to make Neville pay. He'd rather stop the bleeding and then see what would happen. This was however, ruining the myth that Malfoy's didn't bleed. With a disdainful flick (it really was all in the wrist) he created a handkerchief to staunch the blood streaming from his nose.  
  
"Mean it."  
  
"Bet you do." There was a long pause.  
  
"You alright?"  
  
"What do you care?"  
  
"It would be a hassle to deal with your lap dogs."  
  
"Crabbe and Goyle do get the job done." Just have to mind the china and good furniture when they're around, thought Draco.  
  
"So do you replace them during holidays or do you have a house elf version or something?"  
  
"Holidays are an Irish castle built on the ruins of ancient burial site, thought to hold the remains of several Irish gods and mystics. Of course we have house elves, but they don't have much in the way of muscle now do they? I make do with what materials surround me."  
  
"Should I be impressed?"  
  
"Considering you lack good taste," Draco paused, "no." There was a silence for a moment, long enough for Draco to realize that strangely, it didn't bother him. He was actually, dare he say, comfortable in this room with Longbottom, almost as if some understand had passed between them while he was not paying attention. If he were more for analyzation this would be an intriguing idea but Draco never really like reason. Which is one explanation for why he stood and kissed Neville then, surprising himself. What in Merlin's beard prompted him to do that? But he did do it, and Malfoy's do not apologize. But Draco did not know what to do when Neville kissed him back- he never heard what Malfoy's did in that situation, or when they find themselves wrapping their hands in another boy's robes and pulling that boy onto themselves.  
  
Nor did he know what to do when they both began to lie backwards upon the desk. Draco knew he was doing something his parents wouldn't approve of, something that felt right in a 'denying oneself for much too long' sort of way. Yes, strange thoughts were going through Draco's mind as he and Neville shucked their robes and lay on top of that desk in their undergarments. Thoughts like "Neville is actually pretty nice looking' and 'fuck me now', both of which would have shocked and disgusted Draco had he been thinking clearly. But he wasn't he decided, as he nestled his head between Neville's shoulder blades and sucked. Neville must have preformed some sort of spell that would satisfy whatever unsatisfied camp parts Neville had. And until then he might as well give in. When Neville rose into Draco and fell, he bit his tongue and tried not to moan. Malfoy's do not moan but Malfoy's also do not shag (or let themselves be shagged by) Gryffindors in abandoned classrooms either, so he wasn't quite sure why it'd be a bad thing if he moaned.  
  
He only knew that when all was done with and they were both lying on the table not speaking, not really sure what had just happened or why, he didn't feel much like moving because Malfoy's never speak first after.... Well, after doing something generations and forefathers of Malfoy's would probably not approve of. Especially not after doing something the said forefathers would not approve of and liking it, especially not with a Longbottom. Somewhere Potter had to be laughing. That must be reason- Potter. It all came back to him anyway.  
  
"So... Do you have a fag?"  
  
"What?" Draco rolled his head over and looked at Neville who didn't seem in the least bit embarrassed by the fact he was lying naked on top of his robes on top of a filthy table in an abandoned tower with a Slytherin. He must be mad.  
  
"A cigarette. It seems prudent, more or less." Draco licked his lips. He would reach for his wand, but not knowing where it was could make for some interesting textures being felt.  
  
"No." Draco was pretty sure Malfoy's didn't smoke and if they did it wasn't the substandard tobacco that Neville was probably referring to, wrapped up in some crumpled packaging.  
  
"Alright." Neville sat up (Draco stared at the curve of his back, white skin with a few pockmarks that sloped down then rebuked himself) and pulled on his boxers. "I should get back to the tower."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Someone might notice I'm gone. And another someone might noticed you're gone and then those two someone's might find us here like," Neville motioned with a hand. "I don't know." He turned back to face Draco, who noticed that in the mist of kissing him he had smeared some of the blood from his nose onto Neville's skin, marking him in a rustic, tribal sort of manner. He must be marked in the same way, dried blood on his face but he felt no urge to wipe it off. Neville reached down and kissed Draco on the forehead, then on the chin, then on the lips before pulling away. He didn't say anything else, but finished dressing and left.  
  
Draco pulled on his boxers and sat up, staring at the porthole that had begun to fog over. Reaching out a hand, he rubbed the condensation away. Picking up his wand he formed a package of cigarettes wrapped in paper that ripped easily (like tissue paper) under his fingers. He pulled out one and lit it. Sod what Malfoy's did and didn't do. He wanted a bloody cigarette.  
  
dún do bhéal (doon duh veil) = shut your mouth 


End file.
